Make lemonade, not war
by Sheitan
Summary: With a baby that can turn into a kitty, peace is not about to settle over the Urahara Shop.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Kubo Tite owns, I just make them breed.

**AN:**AU-ish, Set during the Arrancar arch. Hmm, warnings for language? I blame this fic on my mother's family. They are all… eccentric. And have way too many kids.

* * *

**It's called a baby**

Night-time. The stars were high and bright, twinkling. Witnessing a scene they had seen unfold countless times, and would witness innumerable more times before the world ended. It was not to say if the stars were particularly amused by the passing of events at this specific moment in time. Who can really tell what amuses the stars?

Night-time. A man was pacing back and forth in front of a building bearing a sign that spelt out "Urahara Shop". Head down, hands behind his back, he had an air of calm about him that reeked of being utterly fake. Proven a second later, when the front door slid open, and an orange-haired, scowling head appeared in the slice of light. The pacing man stopped pacing so abruptly he got his feet tangled and nearly tripped, sending his green-stripped head-wear flying.

"Urahara-san, dad says that if your partner in crime tries to turn into a cat one more time, he's going to dump her at a vet."

The scowling head disappeared back into the shop, leaving the man to look at the open door, a whole range of expressions running across his face, before his features settled back into his old, lopsided smile. Reaching down, he picked up the hat, dusted it off and placed it firmly back on his head.

"She's going to claw me if I run away," he muttered, and stepped inside.

☺☻☺☻

Tessai looked the same as ever, and yet one got the distinct impression he was going to split from ear to ear in a huge grin any minute. On the other side of the table, the three other regulars of the shop were doing a remarkably good imitation of the three wise monkeys.

_See no evil_ - Renji was all eyes on his bowl of rice, his chopsticks going to his mouth with a single-mindedness that was quite impressive even for a free-loader; _hear no evil_ – behind Renji, Jinta had stuck both fingers in his ears, and was humming like a crazy, and _speak no evil_ – Ururu was looking at the hallway leading to the sleeping quarters with eyes even bigger than usual, her mouth slowly moving like she was quietly repeating something to her self, something she still didn't quite get.

When Urahara walked by, all eyes turned unerringly to him.

"Eh, you guys seem tense," he said cheerfully, tipping his hat. "Something going on?"

A high-pitched wail echoed through the shop, followed by a stab of reiatsu so intense Renji dropped his chopsticks. Jinta did a double take, pulled the pillow he had been sitting on over his head and buried his fingers so deep in his ears they had to meet midways. With a certain trepidation, Ururu got to her feet, looking like she was going to ask something, but the man in the hat and sandals was sprinting down the hallway, and out of reach of any questions.

Ichigo was leaning against the wall outside the bedroom, still scowling, and stifling a yawn. Why he had been dragged along, in the middle of the night, for something so – so foreign – was utterly beyond him. Apparently, his father thought his sisters were too young for certain facts of life, disregarding that they had been elbow-deep in the blood of traffic victims at the clinic. Obnoxious as ever, his old man had run out of the door in pajamas, clutching a bag of medical supplies in one hand and Ichigo's collar in the other, leaving an open-mouthed Rukia behind with the sleeping twins.

As Urahara came bounding down the hallway, flung open the door to the bedroom and literally jumped through the opening, Ichigo sincerely hoped he would be left out of the mess from now on. Give him a Hollow any day.

☺☻☺☻

In the bedroom, Urahara was met by a sight that would have made him flash-draw Benihime if the situation had been any other.

A dark-skinned woman, purple hair clinging to her sweaty face, lay quite naked on the tatami-mat, and kneeling between her spread legs, intently studying the scenario, was a large, dark-haired man.

"Ah, welcome back!" Doctor Kurosaki Isshin exclaimed, rising to his feet and smiling widely at the shop-owner.

"How is Yoruichi-san?" Urahara asked softly, giving an encouraging smile to the woman on the floor – who growled at him in return.

Isshin chuckled. "Yoruichi-san is in a rather festive mood. She has been treating all kinds of things. I thought your presence might ease her mind."

"She threw me out, promising to do things to me I'd rather not repeat," Urahara reminded the doctor. "Isn't that right, Yoruichi-san?"

The woman's golden eyes narrowed dangerously. Another spasm of pain raked her body, and she clenched her teeth.

"For fuck's sake, get your ass down here, Kisuke, or you're gonna eat through a straw for the next month!"

"See?"

Not one to let a lady down, Urahara knelt down at Yoruichi's side, and smoothed a strand of hair away from her cheek.

"I don't really think it's a good idea to change shape right now, Yoruichi-chan. It could cause all kinds of complications."

The dark-skinned woman muttered something obscene.

"Am I forgiven, kitty?" he inquired.

"Get it out of me, and I'll forgive you," she growled through still-clenched teeth.

"I think the correct term is ´baby´."

"SHUT UP!"

☺☻☺☻

Half an hour later. Jinta had fallen asleep, fingers still in his ears. Renji and Ichigo had 'volunteered' to do the dishes, and were now in the kitchen, yelling insults across the porcelain. And Ururu was still wondering.

Tessai had gone to the storeroom to get a few items from the two catalogues worth of baby accessories he had ordered, when the reason behind one black cat caught in the pickles-jar had become apparent. Digging out a package of diapers and a white-masked, chest-holed plushie, he noted a small, neatly wrapped parcel placed on the lower shelf. Picking it up, he read the label: _With thanks,_ was all it said, in neat, if somewhat cramped writing. Now where did that come from? The big man stuffed the parcel into his apron, wondering.

And in the bedroom, "a battle of wills" would be the most fitting description.

"Yoruichi-san, come here," Isshin said, with a rare note of exasperation. Said Yoruichi was currently crawling on all fours across the floor, heading for gods knew where, a just as rare expression of panic on her face.

"I don't want to!" she hissed, yanking her leg away from Isshin's hand. The doctor rolled his eyes, setting back on his haunches to take a short break from trying to convince a very stubborn woman that the kid in her belly only had one way of coming out.

Dealing with a woman as extremely fit as Shihouin Yoruichi had proven to be somewhat of a problem. The former commander was counter-acting the contractions, holding back instead of pushing, and she absolutely refused to listen to reason. Or stay in one place.

"It's your girl-friend," he said pointedly at Urahara, who was sitting next to him, sporting a dazed expression. Right now he just about wished Yoruichi had turned into a cat, into this stubborn, back-pedaling nightmare. Didn't animals have easy births?

Pushing back a few locks of hair that was by now about as sweaty as Yoruichi's, hat and sandals long abandoned, he crawled after the woman he adored, and managed to corner her under the shelf with the 'safe' firecrackers from Kuukaku's latest shipment.

"Yoruichi-chan, would you please stop?" he implored, speaking like one might to a wounded animal. She shook her head.

"I know it hurts, and I am truly sorry for not being able to share the pain with you, but would you at least give me a chance to help you?" Yoruichi bit her lip, her face shifting from anger to one of fright, and it truly shocked him. This nearly equaled the score, as Yoruichi swerved to the left, once more trying to get away. Urahara was quicker. Locking his arms around her, he held her tight, and after a moment, her overworked body went limp in his embrace.

"What is wrong?" he whispered into her ear, with the honesty she was perhaps the only person in the world to know from him. She hung her head.

"I'm afraid, Kisuke," she muttered. He stroked her hair. "Of becoming a mom?" he asked, keeping his voice carefully neutral. They had whipped the subject until both parts were ready to puke at the mere mentioning of 'baby', 'child', 'kid' or even something remotely reminiscent. But they had reached an agreement. At least he had thought so.

"No, not that." He breathed a sigh of relief, which Yoruichi never noticed, as she fought down another contraction.

"Of all the rest…" she said vaguely. "This one," – she touched her swollen belly tenderly, - "is the least of my worries."

"_Our_ worries, Yoruichi-chan," he said, patting her lightly on the arm. "Ours."

And so the real work began.

☺☻☺☻

The kitchen was spotless, and the mysterious parcel had been left to stew on the counter. Outside, the stars were beginning to fade, but still the inhabitants of Karakura town slept the sleep of the deserving. Except for the inhabitants of one little shop.

Yawning, blinking, face-rubbing, they sat and hung at the table in various states of zombie. Renji was resting his head on the tabletop, his normally perky ponytail looking like a potted plant in dire need of water, and Ichigo was making a stain on the ceiling alternate between two and four blurry copies, depending on how much his eyes crossed. Jinta's fingers had evacuated his ears from sheer boredom, and as such he was not immune to the enthusiastic coaching coming from down the hallway, and which woke everybody up once every minute or so. Ichigo's dad had a very persistent voice.

Ururu, who had finally figured things out, was looking at the hallway with all the joyful expectancy normally reserved for chimneys at Christmas.

When the latticed doors materialized right in front of her, she hardly even flinched.

☺☻☺☻

"Very good! Now, just one more push and the head is out! And it looks like he has his mother's hair!"

Bracing Yoruichi against his chest as she did her best to obey the loud-mouthed doctor's suggestion, Urahara none the less found it fitting to give her a thumbs-up. The laboring woman tilted her face, colored even darker by her efforts, and _hissed_ at him, her slitted, golden eyes telling him with in no uncertain terms that she was _not_ amused. He gave her a kiss on the forehead.

Ever the scientist, and quite confident in his own skills, he had placed good money on the hunch that dark won out on fair even when dealing with exiled shinigamis and gigais. Yoruichi had taken the bet, because – as she put it – nature wouldn't allow any version of Urahara Kisuke with purple hair.

"Well, now there's no helping it. And I don't really think purple is that bad with green and white," he chucked, as Yoruichi set her chin to her chest and let out a wail that had Isshin go starry-eyed with admiration, startled the no-longer-so-sleepy gathering in other parts of the shop, and had a certain newcomer bend her brows in a frown that gave Ichigo a run for his money. Looking from one to another, and realizing that they were not getting up, she reluctantly settled back with a face like a thundercloud.

☺☻☺☻

"Congratulation! You are the lucky parents of a bouncing, healthy boy!" Isshin exclaimed. With a ridiculous cooing sound, the doctor held up a red, wrinkled and mewling bundle. Smiling, Yoruichi slumped back against Urahara with a low sigh, her eyes closing briefly while Isshin proceeded to count fingers, toes, ears and other appendages, cut the cord, and swathe the infant in a soft cloth adorned with paw prints.

"Here you go," he said, carefully placing the infant into Yoruichi's waiting arms.

"I thought you were supposed to hold them by their feet and slap them in the butt 'till they cried…" Urahara muttered, looking at the tiny face of his son with the strangest feeling in his long life. It was utter wonderment, but also a heavy weight settling on his shoulders and in his heart. Like someone was tugging at the chain of fate a shinigami was not supposed to have.

"It's called a baby, Kisuke," Yoruichi whispered, her smile soft as velvet.

A moment later, the baby _did_ cry. Not because of any kind of butt-smacking, but because the door was slammed to the side. To admit a very tense woman in a black, back-less uniform.

"Oh my, welcome back to my humble shop, Soifon-Taicho!" Urahara exclaimed.

☺☻☺☻

The stars had yielded to the light of the sun a long time ago, and things had returned to normal - as much as they probably ever would.

Yawning mightily, Urahara Kisuke had to admit he had found one thing he could not out-sleep – the sound of his son testing his lungs. He pushed his hat further down over his face, in the vain hope it would render him invisible. Not really going to happen, he conceded in defeat, when he was buried hat-deep in Matsumoto's cleavage a moment later, the only comfort being that her impressive assets cut off most of her squeal of congratulation. Then she was off, bouncing over to the calm center in the circus his shop had been turned into – Yoruichi with the baby at her breast, quite serene and relaxed. Soifon perched on her shoulder, looking torn between the instincts of a body-guard and a woman. Others were not so inhibited. The opposite, rather. Every female that had any connection to the shop, even some girls in school uniforms that had been dragged along by Orihime, had formed a veritable wall around Yoruichi and the baby, filling the air with nonsense words and cuddly sounds.

The men were there in strength as well, starting with Ichigo and Isshin that had never gotten around to leaving, over Ishida complaining to the deaf ear of said Ichigo that he had to redo all of the baby-clothes in blue, to Hitsugaya Toshiro who stood on tip toes to try and sneak a peak, when he thought no one noticed.

As he tried to count the visitors, Urahara began to notice something disturbing. Was it just him, or did they glance at him every so often, shaking their heads? And was that Rukia snickering?

He hadn't expected them to dote on the father – and after having his spine rearranged by a congratulating backslap from Chad and being smothered by Matsumoto, he was grateful for that. But did they have to look like so… skeptical? The idea was still rather intimidating; he would be the first to admit, but come on – he was a nice guy. Responsible, clever, handsome, loving, cute…Look at Jinta and Ururu – well-fed, top-notch fighting abilities, obedient and yet self-assured. Ok, maybe not. But was it _really_ that bad?

"Oh, manager-san, I nearly forgot about this." Tessai cut through his rising misery, and held out a small parcel. Urahara took it with a questioning look. "It was lying in the storage-room. I haven't seen it before."

"No card?"

"Only this." The big man showed him the thank-you-note.

"Hmm…" Eyeing the package with some suspicion, Urahara decided to brave the front.

"Excuse me, daddy coming through," he exclaimed, pushing his way to Yoruichi's side. Placing the baby on her shoulder for a burp and closing her shirt, she gave him a smile that reassured him plenty.

"Have you seen this one before?" he asked, showing her the package.

"No. But let's open it." Gingerly, she handed him the baby – they really needed to find a name for him – and began to tuck at the bright yellow ribbon.

Wiping a bit of drool from his son's face, Urahara had to shake his head. Purple indeed. Now that his features had smoothed out, there was no doubt in his mind that the baby was the most gorgeous blend of him and Yoruichi. Soft, dark downs covered the tiny head, but his skin was pale (later, Urahara had to admit that he might know about the genetic rules for hair, but how much skin could darken after birth he had not a clue about) and the chin was definitely his. The large eyes were the indeterminable milky blue of the newborn, so that score had to be settled later.

"Who on earth gives away a baby blanket embroidered with tea cups?" Yoruichi said. Urahara looked up to see her hold out a big piece of shimmering fabric, patterned with – tea cups.

"One who really likes tea?"

"Yes, that must be it, Kisuke," she said tersely. "But it does have a nice smell." She held the blanket to her nose. "Whoever sent this must have a kitty as a pet."

"With blue fur?" Orihime asked, plucking a few blue hairs from the blanket.

Somewhere, far, far away in a big, big castle, someone sneezed.

- Fin

More AN: And yes, – it's very possible to hold back on the contractions. My aunt did, and she's only a fitness instructor, not a former Commander of the Special Forces.


	2. It's called a kitten

**Disclaimer:** Kubo Tite owns. I run around in circles chasing my tail.

**AN:** AU-ish, Set during the Arrancar arc. I have played a bit of havoc with the time-line and the weather, to make it fit my nefarious purposes. And somehow, this mutated into a multi-chapter-fic. Sry all /

--

**It's called a kitten**

This was so definitely not one of his better nights. Crouching in a dewy shrubbery outside the Kurosaki abode in the wee hours of the night, pockets stuffed with assorted condoms, and liberally slapping his face with one hand, to keep from keeling over with sleep. And then a light drizzle decided to join the fun. Yes, it could be better.

Goddamn, horny bastards. Like it wasn't difficult enough to get some shut-eyes back at the shop, between that purple-haired menace trying to catch his ponytail and his parents catching up in the bedroom. Now he had to be a fucking errand-boy, too. Grumbling, he flicked another stone at the darkened window. _Com'on guys, don't friggin' tell me you fell asleep!_

The window was banged open, and low, tense words drifted down from above. Renji resisted the urge to smack his forehead.

"It wasn't me who forgot to buy them! Or who has a father lurking around like a wolf hungry for meat!"

"You know, the pill _do_ work on gigais!"

"Guys! Quit it -" No-one paid him any attention.

"Are you gonna trust Urahara around contraceptives?!"

"Yeah, and so what? Are you gonna jump up and bite my toe?"

"Shut up, Ichigo, or I'm gonna jump a lot higher when I bite! And then we don't have to worry about anything!"

Abruptly, a dark-haired head was trust out the window, and a pair of large eyes zoomed in on the crouching red-head.

"Thanks a lot for doing this, Renji." She flashed him a smile. "Now throw them up here."

"You owe me big time, Rukia," he muttered, and thrust a hand into his pocket, internally shivering at the sheer variety he had glimpsed when he raided the crate under the desk. Helpful as it was, when one was rudely awakened and ordered to play contraceptive-home-delivery, he did find it rather unhealthy that Urahara kept a _crate_ of condoms under the disk. Without a lid on, mind you.

_Flick! _The windows in Isshin's bedroom lighted up, as a switch was thrown with that ominous determination only achievable by wolfy parents smelling offspring in mischief. He had gotten quit paranoid after finding out that the newest addition to the Urahara Shop was anti-intention personified.

Renji jumped up like a frog on a hot frying-pan, and the contents of his hands sailed high into the air, the little foil packages blinking merrily in the dark night.

"Shit!" He managed to shovel a few condoms off the ground, and hurl them at Rukia, who hung out the window looking decidedly predatory. Good, she would need that when Ichigo's maniac of a dad made his way down the hallway and kicked the door down, frothing at the mouth no doubt.

Renji scrambled out of the shrubbery, and ran far, far away. And the rain picked up.

* * *

Urahara was ripped from a pleasant dream involving the world's largest particle accelerator, a vat of ice cream and two flying pigs by a sharp pain in his shoulder. Mumbling, he swatted at the disturbance, and his hand connected with something furry and warm.

"Yoruichi, stoppit," he groaned. "Wanna sleep -" 10 pounds of furry fury landed on his chest, dug its claws into sensible skin and scratched.

"OUCH!!" Urahara jumped up. Or tried to. There was a poof and a swirl of smoke, and a very naked Yoruichi was sitting on his chest, pinning him back down on the futon. The substantial difference in weight squeezed the air from Urahara's lungs with a sound much like a deflating balloon. That, and the stricken look on the former 2nd devision captain's face, kept him from enjoying his sudden close encounter with her ample breasts.

"What's wrong?" he wheezed. "Why'd you have to claw me?"

Her golden eyes bore into his, quite frantic, and his guts did a back flip of worry. Yoruichi never looked like this, not even when she found out she was pregnant.

"He's gone, Kisuke," she hissed. "Someone left the door open!"

"Shit," he said plainly.

The shop-keeper got up on one elbow, toppling Yoruichi onto the rumpled blankets. She twisted, grabbed her clothes from besides the futon and literally threw them on.

"Get your butt out of bed," she yelled, flinging his hat at him. Urahara deftly snatched the hat out of the air, and pressed it down over his blond hair.

"What happened?" he asked, doing his own version of shunpo-dressing.

Yoruichi let out an exasperated sigh.

"I was feeding Ichihiki when he transformed, and bit me." She glared at him, and despite the severity of the situation, Urahara couldn't help but smile. Every time their prodigy of an offspring did his little trick and sank his teeth into a very intimate part of Yoruichi, he was vehemently referred to as "come get your monster of a son, Urahara!".

"I dropped him," she went on, blushing guiltily. "He was so sleepy, I mean, he's never acted up in the middle of the night before." As father like son. Though Ichihiki had his mother's vivid coloring, right down to the golden eyes, his stuffing was - as many had pointed out - all Urahara.

"And then he took of like the milk tasted of Hollow or something, down into the shop."

"So, there, love," Urahara said soothingly, immensely relieved. "I promise to keep the bedroom door shut tonight." Tears shimmered in the corner of Yoruichi's eyes, and Urahara blinked in complete shock. Tears? But they just had to search the shop, however tedious it would be. He really didn't hope Ichihiki had crept underneath the freezer again -

"Use that genius brain of yours, darling!" Yoruichi yelled into his right ear with such force that his eardrums smacked together.

"You'd think I'd get through the trouble to try and wake you for that? No, someone left the front door wide open! He's gone, Kisuke. Our son is out on the town, heaven knows where, and its pouring down!" She got up, and flash-stepped. With a decidedly ugly curse, Urahara followed, stopping only to get a pair of flash-lights from behind the counter.

Yoruichi hadn't exaggerated. It was really raining cats and dogs over Karakura Town tonight. Ignorant of the torrents from above, the slender woman was framed in the strip of light from the open door, calling out for their son in a voice laced with desperation.

Urahara flicked on the flash-light, and let the beam cut a wide swath through the darkness. Containers, wet asphalt, fences, candy-wrappers floating on black puddles - proof of Jinta shirking away from his duties.

He lowered the flash-light. It was no use. Spotting a tiny kitten in this weather - even if it was purple - was about as easy as making Soifon crack a smile - and besides, he had a wrenching feeling that Ichihiki was no-where close. Something had frightened the poor boy out of his hide, literally.

"It isn't your fault," he reassured her haltingly. Normally, he would never try that kind of reasoning with Yoruichi, but she was hurting like nothing he had seen before. For better or worse, motherhood had brought out a vulnerable, yet savage, side of the fierce warrior that he was still not sure of how to deal with. Not that he was much better - or worse - he had to admit. Just the other day, Tessai had forcibly intervened his trying to shrink one of his hats to baby-size by use of the tumble-dryer and a substance that looked and smelled like liquefied lettuce. They had to humanely euthanize the hat afterwards.

"I know," she said finally, and turned around, and fell into his embrace.

"I feel raw all over," she whispered.

"We are gonna find him," he said firmly, stroking her wet hair as she clung to him. And the rain still fell.

* * *

Renji grumbled into the futon, and yanked his pillow over his head. Dammit, if they were going at it again - for fuck's sake, didn't they have any decency? A loud outburst of unmistakable pain ran down the hallway and assaulted his ears. Great. Now they were adding spanking to their seemingly endless list of under-(over?)-the covers-fun. More noises, blessedly low, and voices. Ahh, much better. Renji was about to board the boat for dreamland, those fluffy shores of bliss and bananas within tantalizing reach, when a sudden burst of spiritual energy had him instantly wide awake and on his feet, all traces of sleepiness burned to ash.

* * *

Above Karakura Town, the sky split open, and six figures of varying bulk, all dressed in monochrome, stepped through the hole between worlds. The leader, a man with bright blue hair and a ferocious double-grin, let his eyes wander over the peaceful setting below. A suburb preparing for night, lighted windows and up-drifting scents of cooking that would have delighted a mortal nose. The blue-haired man, however, had dined on death for so long that not even the memory of being mortal and doing mortal things persisted, and to him peace only meant that it would be easier to track down his targets.

He turned to his five companions, and dished out their instructions. What could be better than a little bloodshed and violence to cover up his true purpose in coming here? The blue-haired man shuddered with anger. The nerve of his master... The - the injustice! It itched in his fingers to rip a dozen or so throats.

"We're gonna kill 'em all!" he hissed, baring his teeth. _Blankie, here I come._

* * *

His eyes fixed on the sky, Urahara registered out of the corner of his eye that Renji came storming out of the shop, in full shinigami-attire with Zabimaru at the ready.

"Arrancars!" he yelled. "Let's get at them!"

"No."

"What...?" Renji stopped in mid-stride, staring at Yoruichi. "You can't mean that, Shihouin-san!"

Yoruichi simply emphasized her words by shaking her head. "Captain Hitsugaya and the rest of you should be adequate to deal with this incursion. I am going to look for my son."

"Son...?" Renji was at a loss.

Urahara waved at him. "It seems that Ichihiki decided to take a little stroll in the rain. Someone left the door open." Renji did a curious grimace, and Urahara raised an eyebrow. So! He'd better keep that from Yoruichi for the time being.

"We are a bit worried," he went on, "so be a good boy and go keep those nasty nasties occupied while we locate the little tyke."

"Eh, I - yes, sir!" Renji replied, and sped off.

"Kisuke." Yoruichi pulled gently, but firmly, at his sleeve. "I'll go to the park, then you cover the fish-market."

He nodded, and kissed her quickly. God of Flash - she was gone in the blink of an eye. It didn't seem like she had connected Renji's flustered behavior with Ichihiki's disappearance. Which was very good, or the vanguard would've had one man down before combat.

He smiled as he shunpo'ed. Make lemonade, not war.

More A/N: Just like last time, some of this fic is based of reality. I know people that have been called to throw condoms on windows in the middle of the night (ok, it was after a party and the woman involved was apparently desperate) and I even spared Renji from doing it in his underwear. Dorms are fun... And for the name of the kid. Look at wikipedia for japanese counters. My japanese teacher inspired me.


End file.
